Undone (Wild Men 2)

I smile, inch away from him. “Not sure. I’m here with my friend Marcela.” Whom I’ve just met, but hey. “Just having fun.”

“Come with me.” He grips my wrist, smiles.

Pushy. I pull my arm free. “No, thanks.”

I’m tipsy but not that far gone.

“Let me buy you a drink at least. We can talk.”

Reluctantly I glance back for Marcela but she’s dancing with a guy. They’re glued together, their bodies moving as one.

Ugh.

“Sure,” I hear myself say and this time when he grips my wrist, I let him.

Wanted a big strong guy to lead the way tonight, didn’t I? Well, come to think of it, this guy could fit the bill. He sure is arrogant. Hey, I’m not looking for my soulmate. I just need a night of wild sex to shake me out of my moodiness.

I settle on a stool and frown when he orders for me—a whiskey neat. I hate whiskey. I take it anyway, sip and let it flow down my throat, a trickle of heat.

The bar is tilting and I grip the edge. Whoa. Guess I’m drunker than I thought. That makes me snicker.

Get plastered, go home with a stranger, have monkey sex. All the firsts in one night. My bestie in Chicago always said I was an overachiever. If only she knew…

God, I’ll miss Maggie. Need to call her… Maybe even right now. Where’s my phone?

Shit, where’s my purse?

“Looking for this?” He dangles my purse from his fingers, laughs when I reach for it. “No panic, I’ve got it.”

Got what? I want to ask but it seems pointless when he sets the purse on the bar.

“What about him?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Why is he looking at you? Do you know him?”

I lean back to see who he’s pointing at—and sure enough it’s Kaden Hansen, the hot deviant bad boy I shouldn’t want. At all.

“Never met him in my life,” I reply truthfully.

“Good. I don’t want anyone getting between us.”

Whoa, what? “Hold your horses,” I slur, and slurring is a bad, bad sign. I put down my glass and realize it’s empty. When did that happen? “There’s no ‘us.’”

“Not yet.” His smile doesn’t look so nice anymore. “Let me take you home, you’re hammered. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want—” I shake my head, but that makes me dizzy, so I stop. “Don’t want you taking care of me. Give me my purse.”

“I’

ll hold on to this for you. You’re so fucking wasted I guarantee you’ll lose it.”

“Give me my purse!” I make a grab for it, and he moves it just out of reach. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me off the stool. I weave on my feet, try to push at him but his fingers are like steel digging into my arm. “Let’s go.”

“Let go.” This can’t be happening. The noise is way too loud and nobody is even looking at us. “Let go of me, you asshole!”

Does he think I’ll just give in? Does this actually work for him normally? Jesus.

I pull my other hand back and slap him across the face. “Fuck off.”